


Dark On Either Side

by winter156



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 19:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter156/pseuds/winter156
Summary: It’s a question that’s been asked many different ways over the years. Never quite so blatantly.





	Dark On Either Side

**Author's Note:**

> I find I like the dynamic between Ada and Hecate. So here's a very short piece about a small conversation between them. One of Ada's lines is a quote from The Chaos of Stars.

It’s a question that’s been asked many different ways over the years. Never quite so blatantly.

“Why did you choose me over Agatha?” Ada repeats herself, louder than the small whisper she asked it in the first time.

Hecate shifts in her chair, straightens against the plush cushions. “I like punishment, Ada, not abuse.” Dry. Deadpan.

Ada’s eyes widen before they crinkle as her lips turn up into a smile. She shakes her head in amusement and disbelief. Hecate never ceases to surprise her.

“Come to think of it, I don’t like punishment all that much either.” Her hands flutter in her lap. “Only under particular circumstances, at the appropriate moment, with the right person.” Her gaze holds Ada’s. “I’m a very particular witch.”

“Indeed.” Ada sips her tea. They regard one another.

“Why do you ask now?” Hecate’s question breaks the silence.

“Your educational pedagogies align more closely than ours do.” Ada doesn’t answer the question. “Together you’d produce powerful witches steeped in the Code.”

Hecate leans forward. “Are you trying to set me up with your sister?”

“No.” Immediate. Sharp. Possessive. “No, of course not. Even the suggestion of such a thing…” Ada shakes her head. “She’s selfish and careless of others and has no real depth of empathy.” Ada’s blue gaze pins Hecate where she sits. “She would never deserve you.”

Hecate swallows harshly, those words pressing insistently into her chest. She watches Ada and tries to give her the reassurance she needs in this moment. “Agatha is ambitious,” she starts slowly, carefully, “powerful, and doggedly determined.” Ada’s face is impassive at the words. She’s listening though, Hecate can see the rigidity that has settled along her shoulders. “Together, her and I, _would_ produce the most powerful witches of each generations. They would be talented, precise, controlled. Perfect. And, they’d adhere to the Code in every situation.”

Ada’s gaze drops from Hecate’s face.

“And they would be utterly broken on the inside.” Blue eyes snap back to her face. “We could never produce any Maud Spellbodys, Enid Nightshades, Midlred Hubbles, or Ada Cackles.” Hecate watches as realization brightens Ada’s face. “Agatha and I, together, could never make great witches. Remarkable witches. Only perfectly broken automatons.”

Ada opens her mouth to speak but closes it again before saying anything.

“I need you, Ada,” naked, honest truth. “You make me better.” Hecate doesn’t know how else to say Ada saves her from herself, that she is the moral compass that sets her course to _goodness_.

The chair Hecate is sitting on widens and Ada is next to her, hand clasped around Hecate’s.

“It’s not that I chose you over Agatha.” Hecate’s face is turned and nearly touching Ada’s. “It’s that you chose me.”

The kiss is unhurried. Familiar because of long practice. It’s reassuring in its familiarity and unchanging consistency.

“And I’ll always choose you,” the words spill against Hecate’s lips in breathless spurts, “in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

Ada’s mouth opens to Hecate and thoughts of Agatha disappear from their minds.

Hecate knows this is a conversation they’ll revisit, but it’s easy to shelve the topic for the night. She stands and offers her hand to Ada.

It’s an invitation that Ada has never refused. They walk, hand in hand, to the bed they’ve shared for years.


End file.
